


Boundless Free

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, Misunderstandings, Misunderstood Desire for Power Exchange, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Unhappy Ending, Unresolved Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 01:37:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11772768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Recently Qui-Gon Jinn discovered he has a strong non-consensual play kink. It confused him because he doesn't want the love of his life in chains, afraid, and without real choice... no. He wants him safe, loved, happy, free. The apparent contradiction scared him and left him feeling like a monster.Unfortunately, Obi-Wan may have experienced this induced fantasy as a trapped spectator/participant with far too much sensory input and no ability to alter anything happening. He also has no frame of reference to understand any of this except for horror stories and the people he's helped rescue while on missions.





	Boundless Free

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Liberties](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11305533) by [Lilith Sedai (TAFKAB)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TAFKAB/pseuds/Lilith%20Sedai). 



> This is a potential sequel to “Liberties,” by Lilith Sedai. It's not required you read them in that order, but if you enjoy this, I would suggest you go have a look at their story.
> 
> Currently this tiny story has no happy ending.

 

Obi-Wan staggered from the room, his alarm increasing.

“ _ Padawan Kenobi _ !” a voice wailed. “You've been in a coma for  _ days _ ! We need to run tests, make sure—”

Obi-Wan stumbled away from the voice, away from reaching hands.

_ No. No. _

Hands on his arms, binding him, voices mocking in his ear, a  _ beloved  _ voice demanding he submit—

Obi-Wan fell to one knee, struggling to breathe.

_ Have to get out. _

He lunged upward, evading the worried Healers, and fled.

He remembered sensing curiosity and a little fear from his master before the coma, he'd reached out instinctively to make sure Qui-Gon was alright—

And had gotten dragged into...  _ something. _

Trapped. Unable to speak. Unable to move. Unable to do  _ anything  _ but endure the story inflicted upon him, see Qui-Gon  _ woo  _ a  _ slave,  _ without giving him any choice in the matter _ — _

Heard his own voice whimpering words that Obi-Wan himself would never say. Felt Qui-Gon's rough hands on his body, felt him  _ inside _ him—

He reached his room.  _ Their  _ rooms.

He had to escape.

Before his master returned, before it was too late, Obi-Wan had to  _ get out  _ and lose himself, gain a false identity,  _ flee— _

Concern wafted across their bond and Qui-Gon tried to reach through, to find out what troubled him so—

Obi-Wan threw all his strength into repelling the intruder, into driving the man from his mind before he could enter, into crawling, sobbing, for his door.

Credits. He needed credits. And a cloak. And food.

_ I don't have time. _

He didn't know how close Qui-Gon was to arriving, but now that his master knew Obi-Wan had realized what the elder man had in store for him...

He would race back to the Temple to silence and secure his prize.

_ If I don't cooperate, if I fight, will he kill me? Or will he drug me, fake my death, and lock me away in some hidden place the Jedi can never find me? _

He found a package on the floor, impeding his progress. He gathered it in his arms, lurched upright, opened the door, and slipped inside.

_ Is that why he chose  _ me _? The desperate child who had nowhere else to go? No one would miss, no one would ask after, no one would realize— _

He opened the package on autopilot even as he moved to raid the credits—

A crystal bird. A bird trying to fly away, mouth open in a scream.

The emerald and cobalt plumage was streaked with scarlet, looking like blood in the dim light, a ring of the color around the creature's neck.

Like the chafing of a collar.

Or perhaps the kiss of a knife.

Glittering onyx eyes stared up at him, full of pain, fear, desperation, hopelessness—

_ What was it fleeing from? _

He found a placard tied to a thin ankle, the string reminding Obi-Wan of a chain.

_**Winged Freedom** _ _ , _ is what the statue was called.

Obi-Wan eyed it, unconvinced.

A card lay at the bottom of the box, and Obi-Wan peered in at it, trying to make his eyes focus.

_ Need to get out of here, need to get out of here,  _ part of his mind urged.

The other felt as if this  _ couldn't  _ be real. None of it. Not his bond-induced nightmare, not watching Qui-Gon be... be that  _ monster _ , not the fact that he had to run and  _ run  _ and never stop running again—

_**For Obi-Wan Kenobi. May you always fly free. With love always, Qui-Gon Jinn.** _

His wide eyes snapped back to the tortured, strangled scream of the bird, of its desperate flight— 

The glass slipped from the twenty-four-year-old's hands and smashed on the floor, the shattering force of its impact sending shards up to cut the tops of his feet and his lower legs.

He struggled to drag in oxygen.

The gift meant Qui-Gon didn't know he  _ knew  _ yet. Didn't it? Or was it a taunt? Saying  _ I see you. _

But Qui-Gon was knocking at the far end of the bond, alarmed now—

_ If he didn't know before, he knows now. _

The helpless bird he'd been fattening to prey upon had learned of its intended fate.

If he hoped to escape, he could waste no more time.

The cold numb of disbelief vanished in a cold rush of absolute terror.

Oblivious to the pain, to the cutting into his feet as he trod on the broken glass, Obi-Wan fled, scraped credits into a bag, dumped in what ration packs he could with one arm swipe, and grabbed a bottle full of water.

He forgot shoes in his haste to flee, trailing blood down the hall as he ran.

 

* * *

 

Something was desperately wrong.

Heart in his throat, Qui-Gon coaxed as much speed out of the ship as possible, begging Obi-Wan to  _ speak  _ to him, to  _ tell him  _ what was wrong.

He was thrown back from the answer again and again by the younger man's terrified mind.

If he hadn't  _ seen  _ Xanatos disintegrate in acid, Qui-Gon Jinn would have feared his former Padawan had returned to destroy his current one.

_ Please be alright,  _ he begged of the trembling, unnaturally strong walls. Walls that Obi-Wan was not skilled enough to keep, and yet  _ was maintaining  _ through sheer adrenaline and  _ need.  _ Qui-Gon had witnessed humans perform insane feats when motivated by blood-curdling terror, feats he'd not have believed a non-Force-sensitive could accomplish had he not seen them himself.

But he'd never seen a Force-sensitive apply the same principle  _ to  _ the Force.

He was witnessing it now.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was afraid.

Afraid in a way he had never been in his entire life.

Afraid in a way he hadn't been when he faced Xanatos alone. When he thought he might blow up in the mines on Bandomeer. When firebeetles shredded his thirteen-year-old body. When Zan Arbor had Qui-Gon and was experimenting on his beloved master. When he thought Bant might die, when Tahl was in danger, when Qui-Gon was close to falling to the dark side—

And then Qui-Gon was racing through the halls of the Temple, Jedi spilling out of his way as he charged forward.

His Padawan needed him. Desperately.

He would be there.

He turned a familiar corner, found bare footprints in blood, made by small feet,  _ running  _ feet—

He made it to their apartment,  _ just  _ in case the prints weren't  _ his— _

Saw the sculpture crushed on the floor, blood everywhere—

“Obi-Wan?” he cried, terrified. Someone had broken in to their safe place, destroyed his gift, hurt Obi-Wan with it, and his Padawan had fled.

Qui-Gon followed the trail, desperate to find Obi-Wan before the attacker did.

_ I'm coming, Padawan,  _ he promised Obi-Wan through the bond.  _ I will find you. Don't worry. I'll be there soon. _

All he received in return was a wail of utter despair.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Do we want to headcanon that from here Obi-Wan retreats to Mandalore, where he sobs his story out to Satine? Is it possible she is more aware of the difference between the desire to permanently harm someone and the desire to have both parties willingly choose to pretend the harm is occurring?
> 
> Is it possible that in his search Qui-Gon stumbles into someone who can offer context for his fears and understanding so that when he finds Obi-Wan he can communicate and soothe his dear one's very understandable fears?
> 
> And do we want to headcanon that Satine stands guard over these talks, ready to intervene should something go awry, but also headcanon that nothing does and it ends with a teary hug? Obi-Wan expressing that this is not a path he wants to follow, and Qui-Gon assuring him that it most certainly is not a non-negotiable. Both wondering if maybe, maybe there is hope for them, as long as they take it slow and communicate along the way?


End file.
